Different Minds
by Sam the Wise
Summary: Being infected isn't always easy, but there's a sense of peace that comes with mindlessness. And those unlucky few start to remember their humanity, and with it, their pain. The life of the infected isn't so easy anymore. R & R.
1. We All Think Differently

_Jake._

_Jake? Ache. Raaake. Ay-something. Not-infected noise. Yooman. Human? Name. His name. His or hers? He. He could remember a sound made with the mouth, but not a screech. Nothing loud or angry. Calm. He'd heard it before from the mouths of familiar faces he didn't recognize. A virus. He remembered a virus, but not really. It wanted him to do something. Didn't know what, just did. Killed. He thinks, not sure. Can't remember. Another human word for clawing. Kill. Strange word. Simple. _

_Right. Virus. Tells him things. Bad things, good things, he doesn't know the difference. Not anymore. Trying to figure it out, slowly. Not entirely successful. Still trying, though._

_Hazy. Smells, sounds. Sights. Dark places. Lights. Night? Nigh. Knight. Something. When they sleep. He doesn't sleep. Can't sleep. Doesn't know why. Doesn't really think about it._

_The smell is back. Humans. A lot of humans. Smoke-smell. Artificial. Gun powder. No? No. Not gunpowder. Can't tell. Shrapnel. Smoke. Yes, that's it. He can smell smoke, and a fire. Metal scraps embedded in scorched bodies. Blood. No longer in the body. But not human blood._

_He growls. Not human blood, but humans nearby. He can see them. Sort of. Smell them, hear them. They are loud. Stomping. Heavy breathing and sobbing. Scratching. Moaning. Pleasant noises, so he thinks._

_Forward. He moves forward and peers over the side of the building. It's raining. Smells are strong now, when it rains. Doesn't know why. Doesn't care. Three humans. Two females, one male. But he doesn't know that. To him, they are human. Just human. Bland, boring. Grey colors. Not like the colorful pictures the virus shows him. Not like the other infected. Needs to get rid of them._

_Bloated infected. Ugly, smelly even for infected. Sprays -spray?- colors at uninfected. Other infected come. Kill. _

_One stands. Female. Terrified. Resigned. Understanding?_

_She looks up._

_He jumps._

* * *

I think it's been two months. Maybe longer. I see things, vivid pictures clinging to my outer subconscious, and they tell me they're memories. I'm not entirely sure I know what that is, though. And it bothers me that I feel like I'm forgetting something. _It's a woman_, my subconscious tells me. _You know her_. And I believe it. I know her name, but not how to say it. Know how she looks, but can't quite imagine her looking like anything. It hurts.

I tilted my head up to see the sky. Another overcast day, sprinkling rain. I think I liked the rain at one point.

Taking a breath, I launched myself across the buildings with ease, sinking my claws into the concrete of the buildings, then setting off again. Flying through the air seemed so natural, like walking or eating but somehow easier. And the feeling of wetness soaking into my jacket felt somewhat refreshing and calming. This was something the thing lurking at the fringes of my mind told me to enjoy, and so I did.

Sometimes, I remembered how it all happened, but then _It_ disregarded them as side effects of the virus; hallucinations that were of no importance. And I believed it, because I'm simply not intelligent enough in this state to question anything.

_Not food. Humans. Many. Walls? Hiding behind walls. Smell them. Hear them. Kill them. Kill them now!_

My mind was a jumbled mess at the scent of humans, reverting to a primal state that that allowed _It_ to take over. It urged me to lash out and attack, claws first always. Made my jaws clench, mouth to water not in hunger, but excitement. My heart began racing in a familiar way I had begun to associate with pleasure. A primitive, violent pleasure.

I landed, roughly, on the corner of the roof of a small grocery store, peering down at the broken glass of the windows and plastic bags. It had been raided a week or so after the first infection, thus was left fairly bare. Humans wouldn't go there. And across the street, outside of the city, was an encampment. Fourteen humans in all, excluding a small child. They reeked of fear and frustration, along with ordinary human body odor. So they hadn't showered. No wonder I could smell them.

In one leap, I could make it to the grassy fields on the outskirts of the city, and maybe a half kilometer of normal distance, no jumping. I don't know how I knew this, but my mind told me it was the inner predator. Calculating and logical as ever.

So off I went, leaping over the small wire fence and into the over grown grass on the other side. No predatory shriek was involved in the feat, and thus I remained silent. The rising growl at the back of my throat subsided when I stood awkwardly with dangling arms and a lowered head, teeth bared and slobbering into the dirt. And I ran toward the camp, the smell of humans and firewood burning in my nostrils. But then I... stopped. Abruptly, I lurched to the side to avoid the massive fist of one of the larger infected creatures. Massive and muscle bound_ things_ that I, nor the thing inside me, had a name for. Humans called it something... Didn't they call it things? No. Tanks. Humans called them tanks. I didn't know why, unable to see any connection. Made up word.

But the tank wasn't after me. Instead, it charged right past and headed straight for the human camp, bellowing guttural noises that sent vibrations to the marrow of my bones. Stunned, all I could do was watch.

The humans screamed. Guns went off, bones were snapped. It hurt my ears, stung my nose. Too loud. Too strong.

_Get out. GET OUT. DANGER._

I didn't understand _It_, and curiosity won over compliance. The smell of blood was enticing, and I had to get near. Blood didn't belong in the body. That's what _It_ used to tell me, when I first began. And I agreed with it, but didn't really know why reaching such a consensus on the matter with_ It_ was so easy.

The first human I saw was male. Tall, long beard. Tanned skin and thick arms. A lot of blood in the wrong place. I had to get it out. Let it go. So I crouched on all fours with my chin touch the ground, knees bent and back with a cry that tore my throat, launched myself into the air, claws outstretched and teeth bared, and tackled the man, flattening the grass beneath us.

Straddling him to keep myself in place, I raised clawed hands, sinking them into the soft flesh beneath his faded blue shirt, freeing the blood that pooled in his belly, sending long-things I somehow knew were important flying through the air like macabre streamers. The man beneath me gurgled, sputtering incoherent words accompanied by a fresh spout of warm blood. He would choke himself to death before I finished, but at least he was helping free the blood trapped inside.

A sick feeling of amusement bubbled up inside me as I tore into this man, snapping ribs and puncturing vital organs. _Give the blood it's freedom_,_ It_ tells me, _It begs for freedom and is kept trapped inside those humans. GET IT OUT_. I enjoy the sight of the blood, and sometimes, I enjoy the taste.

I've tasted human before. I've tasted many kinds of meat. _It_ tells me I need such things to survive. And in while feeding, I get to see blood as well. It's a treat. A sick treat something else inside me finds disgusting. I ignore that part.

"Hunter!" I recognize that title. I've heard it before, and I respond by snapping my head up to bare bloodied teeth at the offender. Female. Gun in hand. Pointed at me and in that moment I realize that I am in danger. The man was already dead by now, and so I relinquished my prize and jumped off of him, launching myself backwards and out of the sight of the woman, who shouted in anger. I had to leave. Had to escape, but where?

I turned to see the opening to the woods, thick trees, lots of cover. Safety. But I didn't make it.

A sharp, burning pain in my shoulder stopped me, knocking me face first into the dirt. Not far off, the groaning death rattle of the tank sounded, and I knew the attack was over. And I was exposed.

The woman with the gun came up to me, pointing her silver handgun at the back of my neck. Yet... something odd happened, and I couldn't quite explain it. Instead of ending whatever life I had, she kneeled on the ground with a small length of scratchy white rope.

No NO. FREEDOM. RUN. FIGHT. KILL. GET OUT. WON'T GO. CAN'T GO. GETAWAYGETAWAYGETAWAY!

She was tying my arms behind my back while I thrashed and snarled, spittle and blood spurting from my open mouth. My squirming increased when I heard the heavy sound of boots pounded the wet earth and halted beside my prone form and the woman.

"Holy shit, Claire. You know the rations we could get out of this?" The man had a gruff, deep voice that sounded soft on my ears, accompanied by a rougher, scratchier quality. "Those CEDA outposts, ya know, they give fuckin' rewards n' shit if we bring anything of use. Damn, we could get, like... a months worth of stuff out of this capture."

The man kicked me in the side and spit. "Hard bastards to catch I 'eard."

Once finishing the bindings, the woman, Clear... Claire? Snorted. "Give weeks worth for a hunter, because they're the hardest. We got an easy one." I snarled at the both of them, baring sharpened teeth. They just laughed at me.

"Sure ya don't got a muzzle or somethin'? Gonna get a lil' obnoxious at night. We can go tomorrow mornin' if ya want, heard there was an outpost just a few miles west of here."

Claire nodded. "Warn the others. I'll drag him back to the camp, find more rope. Secure him to something away from Jonny. Kid'll get himself bitten."

And so the man left, and thus beings my journey. Don't know where I'm going. Can't really conjure up the brain power to care. Not that that ever bothered me, of course.

Besides. Ignorance is bliss.

* * *

**I had so much fun with this. I really did. I basically need something to break the writers block that's been harassing me for quite a while. And I can't wait to see how Jake ends up interacting with the rest of the humans in that little camp of theirs. Hopefully this story goes well, and as always, I ask for reviews and constructive criticism. Also, share your ideas. Your thoughts. I want to know!**

**~ Sam**


	2. Dogs Never Lie

**A/N: Some POV's will be shifting, but will remain in first person. Just a heads up.**

* * *

The night was long and cold. The wind had picked up from the east, and without shelter, I was left to freeze. The hoodie I wore provided no cover from the chilly night air, and the survivors no doubt cared little for my personal comfort. Once or twice, a human from the group came to keep watch over me from a distance. And later in the night a young boy with messy brown hair had stopped mere yards from my location to offer me a strangely warm smile. I snapped at him and sent him running, garnering nothing but self gratification.

Strange, unusual and unaccepted feelings made the inside of my skull itch painfully, like my brain was attempting to force rusty gears into working again after an age of inactivity. With no oil in a metaphoric sense, those gears in my head just wouldn't budge.

And that feeing... The feeling of loneliness by being set apart was jarring to me and unfamiliar. I was alone all the time, so why was this any different?

I strained against the bindings that kept me secured to the tree, gurgling nonsense and drooling over my jacket. It was already stained, and I had no sense of hygiene anyway, but it _must_ have looked disgusting.

My head snapped up. Rustling. Human. Male, and pretty young but not boyish. He appeared from the foliage with the barrel of his gun pointed at my face. Nothing new. "Damn monsters. I'd kill you right now if I weren't so hungry." I winced at the sound of his voice. I didn't understand his words, but they still _hurt_. Could I even feel emotions in this state? _It_ said I couldn't. The man-boy said nothing more and left, scuffing the ground with the tip of his sneaker. I only watched.

Lowering my head, I took a moment. Forced my mind to fall into something sensible rather than jumbled and primitive, as it had been at the attack. Thoughts, murmurs of thoughts, came easily and now I understood them. Thinking clearly wasn't as difficult as _It_ had made it out to be. I looked around, assessed my situation in the simplest terms I could come up with. No escape possible, as the bindings were too tight, restricting my movement. I'd be stuck here until released.

By now, I understood that would never happen. So I closed my eyes, and drifted off to unconsciousness.

* * *

_'Where's the city map? Charlie, get me my pack!' _

_'Ay, Claire, whattabout the hun'er from last night? Ya want me to shoot it?'_

At the sound of the nearby voices, I shook myself awake. Groggy, I scanned the area, blinking often to clear the film that had coated my eyes while I slept, rotating my shoulders to stretch the muscles. Shoot... I know that word. That was bad. That meant no more survival. I hissed and squirmed, gnashing my teeth, short spluttering growls bubbling deep in my throat. No, I did not like this and _It_ agreed, clearing my mind enough to think. Two humans, the humans from last night who'd tied me up here in the first place, appeared in front of me, bickering between themselves.

"No, idiot. You stupid? Give me my map," a rustle of paper and a displeased grunt from 'Charlie'. "See this? CEDA has those outposts and old labs. They give rewards for captures. Need something to test a cure on."

Capture? Labs? Even worse. Even worse than dying I'd much rather die! I made my thoughts apparent by snarling and lurching forward against the rope, forcing the humans back. Another growl, dry and rough, tore itself through my throat, but ended abruptly when the air around my face warped and something cool and metallic struck the side of my head. There was no blood, and the stinging that set in seconds after the hit startled me into a pained silence interrupted by quiet breathy noises of pain.

"That wasn't really necessary... Take it to camp, ask Karen for one of the wagons, find someone who isn't an idiot to pull it." 'Charlie' nodded quickly and wrapped his thick fingers around my wrist to drag me face first through the dirt into the center of the camp. It was humiliating, even when I didn't entirely understand the meaning of the word.

Those around us stared and startled, eyes wide and incredulous. I could feel their anger and fear, and it was pleasing. To know that I struck so much emotion into these humans was... rewarding in it's own sense.

_Fear. They fear. Don't understand. Can't. No experience. No understanding._

The man dropped me and looked around, then his eyes rested on an older woman near the edges of the camp. "Karen! Get the wagon, blue one, and clear it. Claire wants this," he nudged me with the toe of his boot, "to ride to the outpost." I hissed at the word. Didn't understand the meaning, maybe, but I was beginning to associate it with _something very bad_. And with_ It_ agreeing with me, I knew the ominous feeling was exactly what I _should_ be experiencing.

The woman, Karen, tensed. She'd probably kill me if she could. I knew it, and for whatever reason, that was comforting. At least if I were dead, they wouldn't be dragging me to some 'outpost' that I knew nothing about. She stood and disappeared into one of the larger white tents, grumbling the whole way. Charlie stared down at me, "I kin make those ropes tighter _hunter_, if ya'd like." I grimaced at the word. Hunter. Predator. Something that kills to survive. I do not kill to survive, do I? I kill because it is right? Isn't it? That's what _It_ tells me. And I believe it... "Didna' think so."

Karen returned again with a small faded blue wagon, the paint chipped at the corners and old drying leaves scattered around inside. Not unlike the woods on my weekly hunting trips. The dominant, primitive part of my mind decided that _yes, this would make a comfortable place to sleep._

She wrapped her arms around my chest while the man gripped my ankles in a crushing grip, turning her head as her face contorted into that of disgust, though I didn't know why, and hefted me into the wagon. It was small and I had very little room, and with my ankles now tied, I couldn't even sit up or change position. I wriggled the whole way and snapped at the woman's hand, blooded eyes narrowed and unblinking. She did not respond to me.

And here I was stuck, in a rusting wagon covered in dirt and grime, and in some places that my nose could reach, the bodily fluid of one of the bloated infected. Disgusting stuff to humans. Nothing new to me. Though it did make me scrunch my nose; the smell _was_ revolting, but something about it induced a sense of curiosity that drove us to find the source. It always covered humans, and in close proximity made us aggressive. I guess it did its job.

A younger boy, short with long brown hair and squinting eyes stared down at me. "Cooool. Momma! We gonna keep it?" He had a gap between his front teeth through which he poked his tongue.

_A gap between his front teeth..._

"Boy! Get back! Those things ain't animals. Don't fear you and won't hesitate to bite your arm off." A voice I didn't see the source of called the boy back. The kid shot one last glance at me, to which I responded with bared fangs, then ran off to join this 'Momma'. I couldn't explain why that gap between that kids teeth bothered me so. _It_ drove the thought away, and I was back to surveying my surroundings and trying to squirm out of the new bindings that reduced my mobility further.

I tilted my head up to the rising sun, just enough to see the clouds over head. It would be a bright day. And a long ride.

* * *

_That boy is going to get himself killed. And what's worse, is he probably knows it too! _

I'll berate him later when we get out of the city. Having one of those... things with us, so close, was terrifying. Hey, if I could I'd shoot it. But Claire wants supplies, and I can't say I have an argument against that. But with seven year old Jonny running around, what were they thinking? Tying it up isn't going to stop it! I'd seen plenty of those creatures easily break the ties binding them together and killing everyone. They took my husband from me. Took away little Jonny's father, and for that I was _furious_. No amount of rations or supplies would stop me from killing that thing the moment I had the chance.

I wouldn't look at it, and for once, I'm glad they have the sense to cover their ugly faces with those hoods. I wouldn't be able to restrain myself if they didn't.

Charlie and Claire are good people. They know what they're doing, know how to lead and take care of our little group. And so far, we've only lost one person. Didn't know his name. Big guy, probably a gang member for all I know. I'm not upset, though. I know it's horrible, but one less person in the group means more rations for the rest of us, and Jonny was already getting worryingly thin. I had to get something into him.

Currently, I was sitting out on one of the plastic containers we normally kept in the wagons, holding the pistol Claire had given me when we'd joined up. I looked it over, examined it's edges and feeling it's weight. A good weapon.

"Chris, it's your watch."

Right. It's my two hours to keep watch over that hunter for the first half of the journey. I sighed and stood up, snapping the magazine back into the gun and making my way to the center of the camp where the wagon sat, while everyone around me packed up and started moving.

Walking and watching a monster at the same time? Can't wait.

* * *

The sun was at the beginning of it's descent by the time I heard the sounds and smelled the animals and humans. Dogs, I think. I couldn't remember what they smelled like, but something told me that's what they were. The started barking the moment the humans started speaking, and the sound hurt. Aggravated me. Surprising that none of the other infected were attracted by this noise.

When I attempted to sit up, or do anything that wasn't laying still, the but of a rifle struck me in the back of the head and sent me back down. I had no way of knowing who'd done it, but I had the suspicion that it was the older woman who'd retrieved the wagon earlier today.

A voice, high up in a place I couldn't quite pinpoint, spoke up. "Stop! Don't move. Keep your hands above your head, all of you." Claire was the one to speak, striding forward, at least I think she did from the sound of her boots moving away.

"Everyone healthy. No wounds, bites, or infections. There are thirteen of us not including a child." She gestured behind her, probably to my wagon. "We have a... gift. For your scientists and request entry." I growled loudly at his words and lifted my head to glare at him, only to drop it back down in defeat once more.

The man scrutinized the wagon, and upon noticing my wriggling form, called out something to someone behind him. "Mitchel, get a sterilization team and Doctor Dominic for me. Tell them we have guests; they brought one of the specials." Doctor... doctors were good, I think. I can't remember, but had the feeling that they _had_ done good things in the past.

As me and the group were guided through thick steel gates, the dogs continued to growl and snarl, sniffing in my direction. If I could turn around, I'd snarl back, but settled for a hacking noise in my lungs instead. A wet, sickly cough.

I heard an additional three footsteps, a clap of hands, and an aged, professional voice. He sounded much too happy. "Ah! Welcome to Outpost Theta. You're lucky you found one of our... larger outposts. And, sadly, one of the few still standing... Mm. Anyway! Are you here for the camp, or..." His pause signified that he noticed something. Namely, me. "I see... is that what I think it is...?"

"Yup. Shot it down, tied it up. Brought it here." Charlie shook the wagon. "Just for ya, Doc. Happy birthday."

The Doctor broke out into raucous laughter that was more unsettling than the cold winter nights of the city. "Excellent! More than excellent, actually! Bring it here, I'll have one of these wonderful men here take it off your hands..." He raised a brow and smirked. "While I take you to our storerooms, yes?"

He was talking quietly now. "We have plenty of.. extras to go around..."

* * *

**A/N: Cliffhanger, sort of. You'll see what happens next, and hopefully things will pick up. I bet you can't guess what happens next. Anyway, please review, critique... you know the drill. I look forward to your feedback! I'll try to improve the next chapter and make less line breaks, keep it simpler.**

**~ Sam**


	3. Man's Experiment

**A/N: Unlike the last chapter, there will be a pov change to third person. I just want to make that clear!**

* * *

"Doctor... those people. I don't understand. Why kill them? They could have stayed with the other survivors. We have enough supplies to last-"

"That's just it! We have enough supplies, but add another few people to the mix and that just means less and less for you and me!" Two men wandered down the halls of an older lab, walls made of concrete and tile, crowded with sterile rooms and flickering florescent lights that hadn't been changed since the beginning of the outbreak. "Ahh, but not all. We do not kill children, Hale. And his mother... we are not... completely heartless." Both men stopped in front of a see through window into a large room, white walls and a white floor with a steel door that provided a jarring contrast to the rest of the room.

Forgetting about their previous topic, the older man continued. "You see, Doctor Hale, the virus affects everyone differently. Particularly the males." The two men, balding and wrinkled with cracked spectacles, watched a lone hunter through the one-sided glass. "Athletic builds, we've noticed, tend to mutate differently from those of different body types or lifestyles. Take the hunter strain, for example. Fit, very slim, and fast. Likely runners, joggers and the like."

Both men carried clipboards bearing notes on several strains of the Green Flu and in particular, notes on some of the more dangerous 'special infected' as they were dubbed. "As I said earlier today, this particular strain seems to affect only the males, which has lead us to believe that it has something to do with chromosome Y. Do you understand?" The second man, Doctor Hale, nodded and adjusted his glasses.

"Sir, if I may speak, you say it affects everyone differently? Meaning a bite, or any contact between the bodily fluids of infected and non-infected... would the strain affecting the aggressor have any power over how the new host of the virus will mutate?"

The older man shook his head, "Not likely. The virus is still the same, still in it's basic, if adapted, form. It would adapt the new body according to that bodies physical limitations. As far as we've seen." Through the glass, he stared, glancing down at his clipboard. "Usually it destroys the frontal lobe and small parts of the temporal lobe... they can't reason, or think, or comprehend language. Not animals, but not human either..."

"A predator in it's simplest form."

* * *

_Small room. Space. No space. Space good. Plenty of room. Very bad._

Following our arrival, I'd been removed from the wagon and - with a bit of effort on the side of the scientists, courtesy of me - tied me tightly down to a metal table on rusting wheels, down dimly lit halls to a nice sized room lined to the ceiling with metal cages that would easily fit two dogs with a generous amount of extra room. I couldn't see it from my flattened position on the table, but echos bouncing off it's walls was enough to give me an idea.

I couldn't understand what they said, now that I was catching more than a few sentences. I groaned at my attempt to latch onto that comprehension I suddenly know I had at one point, but it continued slipping. And the scientists had noticed. And in response to my struggle, they laughed, guiding the wheeled table into the room. One of the men held a thin needle filled with a clear liquid, while the other held down my arm so said liquid could be injected. The sting made me lurch and hiss, but tied down as I was, I couldn't escape. The liquid was cold as it coursed through my veins, unsettling and, slowly, my limbs felt dead and weak and left me paralyzed completely.

"Well. Good to see that worked. Help me lift it into B3. There should be enough room..." I felt my stiff limbs shift until I was off the table and in the air. My eyes flickered and my thoughts became jumbled and angry, but paralyzed as I was, I could do nothing but wait until whatever they injected me with wore off, and even then I had no idea what an injection really even was. The weightlessness was disorienting, and cool smoothness of whatever they had set me down in was short-lived relief. I heard the click of a metal door.

"Fits perfect. Let Dr. Dominic know that I'll begin preparations in the lab... and get some men in here to get these other cages out. I can barely move!" I heard shuffling from somewhere beyond the 'cage' and the groan and screech of metal against tile. "Oh! And room 173. Code should be one-oh-one-oh. Get it cleaned up, Dominic says this is only temporary."

Temporary. What? What was temporary? With all the strength I could muster, I lifted my head just enough to catch sight of a pair of worn sneakers, before someone bent down to give me a burning glare that I could only translate as disgust in my virus ravaged mind.

"Someone's coming to." Though I didn't understand them entirely, I bared my teeth in an animalistic sneer, then dropped my head once more. That action would cost me. The man kicked the cage, sending me to the back where I knocked my head against the top of the cage. A dull aching pain was all I registered for a moment before nearly understanding what had just happened. I didn't fully realize why, and so I snarled again. The man's only response was to smile darkly, showing unnaturally white but crooked teeth.

"Just wait. Dominic is a very, _very_ good man."

He laughed and guided his partner out of the room, taking with them a few of the smaller cages to free up space. And there I still lay, motionless due to the size of the cage; there was barely enough room for me to turn over on my side, much less lift my head. And already I had begun to cramp up and become stiff, my chest heaving and lungs burning in an attempt to relieve my delusional, claustrophobic state.

I think I passed out eventually, because I don't remember waking up in a white room.

* * *

Elizabeth wasn't entirely sure she could believe the men in uniform when they said she and her son, Jonny, were being protected. Protected from what? She had asked them, and they only shrugged. Claimed the higher ups ordered it, and they couldn't refuse without losing their job. Claire had told her not to worry when they had been separated, but she hadn't heard from the group leader since last night. And she was definitely growing worried.

"Momma, c'mere! Looky what I found," he held up a smooth black rock, shiny and glitterng in the sunlight, "I'm going to keep it."

Elizabeth only chuckled and mussed up her sons dark brown hair. His childish curiosity had sent him all the way to the other side of the survivor camp to get that rock, and he no doubt would bring back more until his pockets were filled and overflowing. A few of the other young survivors had joined him in his rock hunting, and now they were playing a makeshift baseball game with sticks and some of the lighter, smaller rocks. If only she could be that innocent and oblivious to the world.

She thought back on that hunter. She couldn't explain it, but something about it seemed oddly familiar in a way she couldn't explain. Of course, she knew this was simply because they looked so human compared to the other special infected. So normal that it was unsettling.

"Elizabeth? Or Liza. Can I call you Liza?" A woman in her early thirties approached her, hair done up in a messy bun and one eye covered with a bandage. Elizabeth hoped she was wrong about what she thought what was under it.

Nodding, she stood up so she could make eye contact and brushed herself off.

"Oh, good. Anyway, it's about your son. Jonny, isn't it? Well, we have this..." She waved her hands and looked up to the darkening, overcast sky. "This protocol to test for immunity. Don't worry! If he's not, we just have to take extra precaution to make sure he won't get hurt or infected." Elizabeth, having nowhere else to go if they were kicked out for refusing, said nothing and lead the woman to where Jonny was playing with the other children.

Elizabeth didn't call out to him, as the woman accompanying her had expected, but walked up to him, grabbed his upper arm, and lead him away from the other children. Then she crouched down beside him and whispered something in his ear. He nodded solemnly, much too intelligent for a boy his age. Then he followed his mother back.

The woman stared and held out her hand to Jonny with a too-sweet smile. "Hello! I'm Klara, and I'll be showing you around, okay? What's your name?"

Jonny stared at her and smiled, sticking his tongue through the gap in between his two front teeth. "Jonny, ma'am. Ma says you're gonna get me tested, right?" He stared at Klara expectantly. Much too intelligent.

"Yes Jonny, yes. We, hm, have to see how much 'protection' you're going to need. Don't worry, just one tiny needle and you're good!" Jonny frowned and cocked his head to one side, much to the amusement of his mother.

"Needles aren't scary, ma'am. No need to try and comfort me."

Klara laughed awkwardly and cleared her throat, then said nothing more, gesturing for them both to follow.

That kid was _way_ too intelligent.

* * *

"This is the cafeteria. Everyone gets the same amount each, which is usually not much but we've done well so far." Klara was leading them through the base on their way to the labs, stopping every few moments to remind them of where they were going. "Up the stairs and to the left is the bunk room, where is where those who aren't immune stay. We keep it comfortable." She lead them down two flights of stairs and brought them to a small square room, a table set in one corner with various objects set upon it, and a small wooden stool on the other side. The rest of the room was bare, save for the single florescent lightbulb that barely lit the room.

"Just wait here, Jonny you can take a seat, and I'll send Doctor Hale to start. He should only be a few minutes." And with that, Klara left Elizabeth and Jonny to themselves, leaving the door open by just an inch.

Jonny, being as curious as he was, ignored the stool and went to have a look at the objects laid out on the table, most of which weren't familiar to him. A few vials of a thin yellowish liquid, and another two vials that were empty and unlabeled.

"Momma," Jonny looked up to Elizabeth and pointed to the filled vials, "what're those?"

Elizabeth leaned in to take a look, eyes widening when she recognized it. "Don't touch that Jonny. You leave it alone, hear me?" She didn't explain, slapping his wrist hard when he reached out to touch them. They both looked up when the door creaked open, and in stepped a man with thinning black hair and glasses with the frame bent on one side.

"Ah, hello! You must be Elizabeth, correct?" He held out his hand, and, tentatively, she gripped it with her own. "And here's little Jonny, right? We're just going to be taking a little sample of your blood, okay? That's it, nothing too serious! Then you'll be given a permanent place to stay." Jonny didn't visibly respond, so Hale continued to the table. "Jonny, would you mind sitting on that there stool for me please?" Jonny obeyed, and Hale returned with a small syringe and a bright purple band. The band was tied just above the crook of Jonny's elbow

The prick was nothing, and Jonny looked fascinated as he watched his own blood fill the syringe until Hale pulled it out, and bandaged the tiny mark. "There we go! Now here's what I'm going to do; those vials over there contain a modified version what we like to call the 'Green Flu'. Do you know what that is, Jonny?" Jonny nodded.

"Makes people angry and kill each other." He said it so bluntly that the doctor was left staring at him in surprise.

"Yes, well... Yes." He adjusted his glasses and filled one of the empty vials with the blood. He retrieved a dropper and dipped it in one of the vials of the virus, and squeezed a single drop into the vial of blood. He frowned and used a second dropper to add a third, clear liquid. And suddenly, the vial that was now a mix of three different liquids turned an ugly green-black. Hale took a deep breath.

"Jonny... it appears that... you're a carrier."

* * *

It was a relatively small room, lights dimmed. From where I lay tied on a table, I could see a heavy looking metal door to my right near the corner, while on the right was a counter, though I couldn't make out what was resting on that counter. My hands were bound to the metal railing along the sides of the table with a thin, yet apparently strong, wire. There were two people, two people I didn't recognize. Until one of them spoke.

"Awake. Good. I have several injections I'd like to try. Kenneth, get me AB1 and CB7 from the cabinet." The man from earlier. Doctor... doctor something. A strange word I didn't recognize. But I knew it was a name. The man he'd spoken to was somewhat overweight, with blond hair and dark, bulging eyes. The labcoat he wore barely contained his size as he waddled over to the counter and gave something - I couldn't see it, nor smell it - to the Doctor. With what energy I cold draw upon, I snarled and bared my teeth at him, snapping.

"Hold it's head down, please." Kenneth did so, and I felt a prick near the base of my neck - or was it my arm? I don't remember what it's called anymore - And something cold seeped through my blood stream. I groaned and tried again at sinking my teeth into Kenneths arm, but couldn't reach, drool pooling at the corner of my mouth. Something about this human was agitating. The blood in his veins was loud in my ears, and such a sound drove me to a primal frenzy; _It_ made my arms strain, _It_ made my legs bend inward and kick, nearly missing Kenneth.

And then another cool sensation filled me; I think I hated it -hated, I'm sure- or strongly disliked the numbing feeling. I was startled for a moment, the urge to tear with my teeth was momentarily snuffed out as my ravaged my attempted to figure out what was going on. And then I couldn't move.

"Damn things. No wonder they're so hard to catch."

Another prick, this time in the crook of my elbow where the bulging veins were more noticeable, and this time it was a warm, stinging sensation. Stinging? Yes, it stung. Like... sharp burning and freezing all at once. _Burning_. Fire? No. There was no fire, just sensation. A horribly uncomfortable, but not painful, sensation that started in my right arm and spread to my chest, then my left arm, then down to my clawed toes. A howl of anger and rage at my own inability to do anything tore through my throat, and the scientists covered their ears. Good.

I think at one point one of the men had a wooden bar that he forced into my mouth to gag me; _those_ teeth at the back of my mouth were too dull and weak and barely scratched the wood when I tried to force it out. It was restricting. I didn't like it.

"Kenneth, quickly, get CB7 before AB1 runs it course. Hurry!" And within moments, a sensation I wasn't familiar with began tormenting me further. An itch _whatwasanitch,_ biting and burning my insides, crawling.

_Bugslikebugs. Like bugs. Insect. Worm. _

In my eyes. My eyes itch! Have to scratch them, relieve the itch...

"Shit, the virus is just growing stronger... Kenneth, help me sedate it!"

I pulled my restraints with a renewed vigor, separated the links binding my arms to the metal bars at my sides. The humans around me were ignored. The itch. I had to scratch it, _relieve_ it.

So I clawed at my eyes. Tore them out. Relieved the itch. And then there was no more pain, no more itching, no more crawling. It was calm, and the world seemed to slow down to a crawl. Something warm dripped down my face. Smelled like... infected. It was infected. Safe. My virus. It was mine. Also smelled... metallic. Not blood, though. I help blood. Get it out.

_Everything is dark._

* * *

**A/N: Whoo. To be honest I'm not overly fond of this chapter. I feel like I'm making Jake too human, so I'm working on that. I'm trying to paint a picture of the primitive mind of the infected by making him sort of... rabid, I guess. I've always wanted to explore that, because so many special infected based stories make the infected out to be much too human, or act like animals (working in packs, having mates...? I just never understood that). Though I do have a few favorites in that area, I wanted to give my idea of what they'd be thinking.**

**There I go, ranting again. Well, I'll begin the next chapter after I publish this, but it will probably take a little longer to write (I'm trying to plan everything out). Anyway, review and critique, that's all I ask for!**

**By the way, I promise things will get creepier in the next chapter!**

**~ Sam**


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